


Famous Last Words

by eternaleponine



Series: The 100 Clexa Reunion [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 04:55:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4006579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternaleponine/pseuds/eternaleponine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa has convinced Clarke to go with her back to Polis, but that doesn't mean she knows where things stand.  Clarke, on the other hand, is prepared to tell her on no uncertain terms.</p>
<p>Continues from <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/3711562">Burn Me With Fire, Drown Me With Rain</a> and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/3922261">Ghosts of Memory</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Famous Last Words

Lexa stepped out of the bath and was wrapped in a robe, a luxury that she allowed herself because being the commander had to have a few perks, didn't it? A knock at the door drew her attention, and she pulled it tighter around herself, frowning. "Come."

"She insists—" the guard at her door (and the fact that she need guards in Polis left her ill at ease; this was her seat of power, she should be safe here, but nowhere felt entirely safe anymore) started to say, but was interrupted by someone pushing past her.

"Clarke," Lexa said, by way of greeting, taking her in. Her hair – clean now – was the color of the noon sun, and her skin paler than Lexa had thought. She was wearing clean clothes, Grounder clothes, Lexa's own clothes but she wouldn't tell Clarke that. It had made sense; they were very much of a size, and it wasn't like there was a lot to spare.

She looked at the guard, then at the girl who had been tending her. "Leave us."

"Heda, your hair?" the girl asked, then bit her lip like she was afraid she would invoke the commander's wrath for speaking out of turn. As if she would turn on one of her own people so easily, with so little provocation, but the girl was young and didn't know her well yet.

"Later," Lexa said. "Thank you."

The girl left, and so did the guard, although Lexa knew that neither of them would go far. "Is everything all right?" she asked, once the door was closed. "I thought you would want to sleep."

Clarke didn't answer. She was too busy looking around, taking everything in and storing it in that head of hers, for later use or maybe just because she was curious. Lexa let her, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched. The space wasn't large, but it wasn't tiny, and it was hers. Hers alone now, and then she was looking around too, to see if anything of Costia's remained in the room. Not that it mattered. Clarke wouldn't know the difference. 

"You put a guard at my door," Clarke said finally. "Why?"

Lexa pursed her lips, not meeting Clarke's eyes even though she knew that it would give away her discomfort. Why? Because her confidence in the alliance of the clans now that they no longer had a mutual enemy was shaky at best, and it seemed only a matter of time before something happened to bring it crashing down. 

She worried that Clarke might be that thing.

Because she'd promised Clarke that if she came to Polis, she would be safe, and how could she keep that promise if there wasn't someone looking out for her? But then, Gustus had been charged with keeping her safe, and look how that had turned out. Except he'd done what he'd done to keep her safe, or so he'd thought. But when she thought about it, how could she be sure that whatever guard she set was actually loyal to her?

"I thought you would feel safer," Lexa said. "You are in a strange place. I thought you would want someone to keep watch for you while you slept."

"Alone."

Lexa's mouth opened, but no sound came out. Clarke seemed to have that effect on her, more often than she cared to admit. No one had ever been able to render her so utterly speechless before, and with so little effort expended. 

Did Clarke realize what she was saying? Or how it sounded, was more to the point. Did she have any idea what the statement, that single, blunt word, seemed to imply?

"I thought you would want space," Lexa said. 

Clarke took a step closer to her, and something in her eyes pushed on Lexa like a physical force, but she refused to be budged. She refused to step back just because Clarke was advancing. She wasn't armed (unless she was, but her guard would have checked her for weapons... except Clarke had pushed past without permission, so maybe they hadn't had the chance, but she'd come her of her own free will and Lexa had thought...) so she wasn't a threat. "I thought you would want to keep an eye on me."

"Why?" Lexa asked, trying to keep her chest from heaving even as her lungs screamed for air, and she hadn't even realized she was holding her breath. "I trust you, Clarke."

Clarke stopped her advance, leaving enough space between them that Lexa's breathing eased, although her heart still hammered against her ribcage. Now she seemed to be the one who wasn't quite sure what to say, and Lexa couldn't help but feel the tiniest flicker of triumph at that. 

"I thought you would want me... nearby," Clarke said, and now she was looking up at Lexa from behind her lashes, eyes downcast, and she wasn't playing coy, she seemed genuinely uncertain, like she'd come with a mission, a battle plan, and things hadn't gone as she'd expected. 

"You said that you weren't ready," Lexa said, her voice dropping lower, and now she closed the distance between them, her hands coming up to cup Clarke's elbows where she crossed her arms. "You said not yet."

"I changed my mind," Clarke said, allowing herself to be pulled in. Their lips met, and then Clarke's fingers were in her hair, cradling the sides of her head and this was the sort of kiss that sparked earthquakes, rocked worlds and left them in rubble when they were through, and Lexa heard a sound, somewhere between a whimper and a moan, and it took her a moment to realize that she was the one making it, as her insides went liquid and heat radiated out from her core, flushing her skin and setting her skin on fire.

It had been... how long? She used to know down to the number of days, but somewhere along the line she'd stopped counting... and now she couldn't remember what the number had been when she'd stopped, and she realized that she hadn't thought about it – the number – in days. Weeks. 

A pang of guilt made her put her hands on Clarke's shoulders, pushing her back, breaking the kiss. Clarke blinked at her, startled, her eyes full of questions that she didn't ask. Instead she reached up and traced a finger along her cheekbone, touching the corner of her eye where tears gathered but did not spill, and pushed back a lock of Lexa's hair, tucking it behind her ear.

"I don't know how to do it the way you usually wear it," Clarke said, "but I could comb it out, at least." Her fingers traced the wave of Lexa's hair as her hand dropped, and she wrapped her hands around Lexa's upper arms, squeezed. "If you wanted me to."

"I would like that," Lexa said, and she thought she was just being practical – it needed to be done – but no, it was more than that, and the thickness of her voice as she said the words, the ache in her throat, gave that away. That Clarke would offer... that Clarke wanted to be that close to her, to do something that suddenly felt so intimate...

"Sit," Clarke commanded, and the commander sat. Clarke reached for the comb where it lay on the small table where things tended to collect. Little things that Lexa was given, or that she found, pretty things that shouldn't mean anything but somehow did, because sometimes she needed to remind herself that there was beauty in the world, not just cruelty and pain.

She felt a tug as Clarke began to work the comb through the snarls and knots of her hair, where the unbraided parts had tangled themselves together, and she was reminded that it would likely make more sense, when she was out in the woods, to keep it a little more tightly controlled, but she had appearances to keep up... or something. Maybe she just liked the way it looked...

Her mind was drawn back to the moment at a sharp tug and a murmured, "Sorry," but began to wander again as Clarke worked. She wished for a mirror – she only possessed a scrap of one, and not on her at the moment – so that she could see Clarke's face as she worked. She imagined her frowning with concentration as she tried to keep from hurting Lexa.

It didn't take too long before the comb was gliding smoothly through her hair from root to tip, and Lexa felt Clarke gather it up like she was weighing it all in her hands. "I like it like this," she said softly. 

"Like what?" Lexa asked. 

"Loose, free."

Lexa's lips curved in the faintest of smiles. "It gets in the way."

She thought she heard a smile in Clarke's as she replied, "I guess I can see that." She didn't turn to look, because she didn't want to be wrong, and also because she didn't want Clarke to move, to stop being there, the warmth of her body reassuring at Lexa's back. "Still, it makes you... more human. Less forbidding."

Lexa felt her smile slip a little. "Another reason why I don't."

Clarke was quiet, and Lexa felt her hair slide from her fingers, falling against her back. And then she felt something else, and her heart jumped and resumed its staccato rhythm against her breastbone. Clarke's lips, pressed to the curve of her neck, and then Clarke reached around her, wrapping her arms around Lexa's shoulders from behind, and Lexa just sat there, frozen, as Clarke peeled back the edges of her robe. The belt kept it mostly in place, but it opened enough that Clarke could pull it down over her shoulders, exposing them, and her collarbone... and her scars.

There was a pause, and then Clarke was kissing her again, moving from her neck out to her shoulder, the left one, and was she counting as she planted kisses there? Was she counting the lives that Lexa had taken as lips and then tongue worked over her skin? If she was, what was she thinking? What did this – any, all, of this – mean?

"Clarke," she whispered, trying to turn, but Clarke held her fast. She did lift her head to look at Lexa; she could turn her head enough to see that, and then Clarke met Lexa's mouth with her own, once, and again, and it felt like too much and not enough all at the same time, but she didn't stop.

Someone was making a sound, a soft, needy sound that wasn't the word 'please' or 'beja' but it meant the same thing, and Lexa wasn't sure she was the one making it this time, but she wasn't sure she wasn't, either, as she lost herself in the kiss.

She managed to catch hold of one of Clarke's arms and used it to pull her around, to ease the awkward angle of the kiss, and then Clarke was in her lap somehow (had she planned that? she was pretty sure she hadn't planned it, but maybe Clarke had, maybe her mission was back on track...), straddling her, and Lexa's hands found their way to the small of Clarke's back, and her fingers worked under the hem of her shirt to touch her skin, warm and damp with sweat (even though the room wasn't particularly warm, or maybe it was just from her own bath). They were creating their own heat, and it seemed to surround them like a bubble.

Clarke arched her back as Lexa's nails grazed her skin, and broke the kiss, staring into Lexa's eyes. There were questions there, or maybe just one, and she nodded yes, yes she wanted this, yes this could, would, happen if Clarke wanted it to, wanted it too, yes to anything, everything as long as Clarke didn't leave.

But the moment stretched, and then shattered.

"You want to look dark, mysterious, unapproachable," Clarke said. "You want people to be afraid of you, so they don't get too close."

Lexa tipped her head in assent.

"But I'm not afraid of you," Clarke said.

"No?" Lexa splayed her fingers against Clarke's back to keep her from moving, from retreating (although if she really wanted to get away, Lexa knew she would let her go, because this wasn't about power, not really, and certainly not here, now, in this situation which was about to become... she didn't know what).

"No," Clarke said.

"I'm afraid of you," Lexa said softly. "I am more afraid of you than I have been of anything in my life. Even my first battle was nothing compared to this."

Clarke frowned, and Lexa wanted to reach up and smooth the little lines that formed between her brows, but she didn't. "Why?"

"Because you have the power to hurt me worse than I've ever been hurt," Lexa said, her voice barely a whisper, the confession torn from her like a thing she didn't want to give up and released like something that had been too long caged, and it was a risk and a relief at the same time, and how could something be both?

"Worse than Costia?" Clarke asked, and Lexa could sense that she was aiming to wound with the words, that she'd cornered Clarke at the same time she'd forced her into retreat, and she was lashing out with the surest weapon she had... and yet she hadn't moved, hadn't tried to get away, and what did that mean?

"Yes," Lexa said. "I don't think it gets easier the second time."

This time Clarke did move, pushing back against Lexa's grip, and she let her go, let Clarke step away, turn her back, take the space that she needed. She didn't head for the door, and that was something, just the other side of the room, her arms wrapped around herself, facing a wall and staring at nothing in particular, or maybe her eyes were closed. Lexa couldn't tell.

She sat frozen for a minute, not sure what to do, but she couldn't just leave her standing there, alone. Not when there was nothing else at stake but whatever this was, or could be. Not when the only things on the line were their hearts, and not the fates of their people. Only two lives hung in the balance instead of hundreds, and she'd told Clarke that if she'd made the decision with her heart, she never would have walked away.

She got up and went to her, putting her arms around her just as Clarke had done, and rested her chin on Clarke's shoulder. At first Clarke just stood there stiffly, but then her hands came up, wrapping around Lexa's forearm, and for a split second Lexa thought she was going to pull her arms away, but no, she just held on. "It doesn't," she said, her voice a hoarse, cracked whisper. "It doesn't get easier the second time."

"I'm here now," Lexa whispered back, her lips brushing Clarke's ear. 

"Why should I give you another chance?" Clarke asked, her nails biting into Lexa's sleeve. "Why should I risk you breaking my heart all over again?"

"Because it's the only way you'll feel alive." 

Clarke made a sound, almost a growl, and turned in Lexa's arms to face her, and this kiss felt like an attack, a punishment... but only for a second, and then it softened, but the passion was still there, the desire, the demand, and when Clarke took a step forward, Lexa took a step back, until the backs of her thighs hit the bed, and they both paused.

And there was the question in Clarke's eyes again, and this time Lexa answered it out loud, so that there could be no confusion. "Yes," she said. "What's mine is yours." Including her body, her heart, everything she had to give. Even if it cost her everything in the process, she was willing to give it up for a chance, the smallest, remotest chance, that maybe for a little while she could be happy again. Maybe for an hour or a day, maybe for all the life that she had left to live... and maybe those would be one and the same. She didn't know. It didn't matter. She – they – had a second chance at this, at something more. Something better. Maybe it wouldn't work. Maybe they were both too broken. But there was hope in the way that Clarke looked at her, in the way that her hands lingered like Lexa was something precious, the way she held on like she was just as afraid as Lexa of losing this again.

They could be happy, if they tried, couldn't they?

She wanted - _needed_ \- to find out.

So she sat on the edge of the bed, and pulled Clarke to her, closer and then closer still, until Clarke was straddling her thighs, pushing Lexa back farther so that her knees were on the bed, and she was in Lexa's lap again as their lips met. 

That's all it was, for a minute or more... probably more, time seemed to lose its relevance when her entire world was comprised only of this one girl, who was not Costia, who was nothing like Costia except that Lexa loved her and yes, that was the word for it, there was no point in denying that she loved her, was falling in love with her or had already fallen, hard and fast and probably, if she let herself admit it, a little bit since the very first moment she met her.

Clarke kissed... not roughly, not exactly, and not desperately... but like she was seeking something, like there was something she needed in that kiss that she hadn't quite found yet, and Lexa's hands came up, threading through her hair, stroking the back of her head and cradling it, trying to ease the tension she felt in the Sky Girl that she didn't know the cause of... or maybe she did, and she didn't like the idea that maybe Finn was in her mind right now, and she almost pulled away but then something shifted, something changed, and Clarke's muscles unclenched a little, and the kiss softened. It was no less deep, but the demand was gone, giving over to what felt like melting, and her mouth was soft with the surrender, and it was just the two of them, with no ghosts edging into the tiny spaces between them.

Lexa broke the kiss to breathe, only to have it snatched away again as one of Clarke's hands found its way under her robe and cupped her breast, and she felt the ball of Clarke's thumb tracing around her nipple, bringing it to a point and then rolling over it, and her fingers tightened against the small of Clarke's back, the tips of her fingers digging into the shirt she wore, and although it wasn't meant as retaliation, maybe it was, a little, when she slid her hand under the back of Clarke's shirt and traced it up her spine and then down again, and she felt Clarke shift, felt her press back into the touch, and Lexa was suddenly conscious of how limited she was in this position, how unequal it was, how Clarke had all of the control, and her instinct told her to take it back, but no, she let it be. She had to let it be or she risked sending Clarke away.

Their mouths met again, and their tongues and she tasted sweet, like what they'd eaten upon their arrival but like something else, too, something that maybe was just Clarke, she didn't know and it didn't matter, really, did it?

Clarke leaned back a little, apparently trusting Lexa to support her weight because her feet were no longer on the floor and her perch on Lexa's knees was a little precarious, and then her other hand was under Lexa's robe, and this time Lexa _knew_ she was the one making a sound, and Clarke answered, a sort of hum in her throat, as Lexa's entire body arched, and she held Clarke's hips in place as her own pressed up against them.

"This is...?" It was half question, half statement, and the words disappeared into another deep, melting kiss, that only ended because Lexa had worked Clarke's shirt up her ribs, but there was no way to pull it the rest of the way off unless they stopped, at least for a second. 

Clarke's eyes caught hers and held, only breaking contact when they had to, as the material eclipsed her face for a second, and then she emerged, hair tousled and cheeks flushed, goosebumps raising on her skin, and she seemed to forget for a moment where she was, and why, because she shifted to cover herself.

"Please," Lexa said, catching her arms and holding them gently. "Don't. Let me..." See you. Touch you. Taste you. Let me take all of you I can get now, because we don't know what the morning will bring. 

Clarke started to shake her head, then stopped, and let her arms fall down to her sides, and Lexa just looked at her for a long moment, until she nodded, just a fraction, the tiniest movement to indicate yes, okay. 

Lexa slid one arm around Clarke's back, and the other rested on her hip as she tipped her face up to let Clarke kiss her again, and her hesitation to do so lasted only a second, and then Clarke's hands were in her hair, up under the weight of it, and holding on for dear life as Lexa's hand slid up her side and to her breast, and her touch echoed Clarke's of not so long ago – could it really be that it was only minutes ago? – first one, then the other, and then back down her belly, and now it was Clarke moaning, her lips sliding across Lexa's cheek as she undid the fastenings at her waist. 

"We should..." Clarke started, her lips against Lexa's skin as she formed the words that didn't become a whole thought even when Lexa waited. 

"What, Clarke?" Lexa asked. "What should we do?"

"Lie down," Clarke finally finished. "We should lie down."

"As you wish," Lexa said, and put both arms around Clarke's waist, pushing up and over so that now she was on top, and Clarke was pressed beneath her, and it made her a little dizzy, all of the possibilities of this new position, all of the things that she could do to, for, with Clarke...

But Clarke wasn't about to be still, and just let this all happen, and Lexa should have known better, and she couldn't help smiling a little as Clarke immediately shifted, moving away from her, but it made sense because now she was actually facing the right way on the bed, so they were no longer on it sideways, and she held out her arms to Lexa. "Come here."

Lexa knew better than to argue, and she didn't protest either when Clarke untied the belt at her waist and pushed the robe back, exposing her completely, and even if she wanted to object she wouldn't have been able to as Clarke's mouth found hers yet again in a kiss that robbed her of both speech and thought, and more so when it traveled from her lips to her jaw, throat, collarbone...

"Clarke..." she whispered, like a curse or a promise, she wasn't sure which, and the girl who fell from the sky and turned her world upside down looked at her, and smiled, and then turned everything on its head again. So long since anyone had touched her, so long since anyone had pressed lips to all of the soft, usually hidden places on her body...

Clarke found one of her scars, first with her fingers, and she looked up at Lexa briefly, asking but not asking, and maybe she would tell the story of the who and the where and the how someday, but not now, not tonight, because fingers had given way to lips and to tongue, and she gripped the bedclothes at the sparks that seemed to radiate through her at the tenderness of it.

She didn't stop there, but found each one, and there were more than a few, because even though she was Heda now, Lexa had been a warrior first, and was a warrior still, even though her people now felt some duty to protect her. Lexa found there were some that she'd actually forgotten, some whose stories she didn't know anymore, but Clarke discovered them, traced them over like she was trying to memorize them, maybe making up her own stories as to where they'd come from, she didn't know... 

But then there were no more left, and Lexa was trembling with the intensity of it, of having all of her vulnerabilities exposed, and she reached for Clarke, pulled her up, kissed her deep as she fought back the lump in her throat and the tears in her eyes, and if her fingers dug a little too hard, if she held Clarke a little too tight, would she notice?

"It's okay," Clarke told her. "You're safe."

And the tears flowed despite her willing them not to, and Clarke kissed them away as they fell, and her lips tasted of salt when Lexa found her mouth again, but it didn't matter. It felt good to cry, somehow, and she wasn't used to that, but something in her eased, unknotted, as she just let it go, and soon it was over and her focus turned back to the girl in her arms, this girl made of sunshine and steel, and she pressed her onto her back to discover what, if any, marks Clarke _kom Skaikru_ bore.

There weren't many, and Lexa wondered if any of them were from before her arrival here on the ground. Had she ever been hurt – really hurt – before she'd fallen from the sky? Did she know what pain was before it was so brutally introduced into her life? She kissed the places that had been scraped and bruised on her face and on her hands, traced the long scar on the inside of one arm with her lips. She wanted to ask, nuzzling into the bend of Clarke's elbow, but she didn't. Later. There would be time later. 

She had to believe that.

But here was one that she recognized, one that she knew. Tiny, faint, just a pinprick mark above her navel where she'd walked into the point of Indra's spear, determined to get to Lexa. She wondered how far Clarke would have gone to make her point, how much damage she would have inflicted on herself if Lexa hadn't intervened.

Clarke's hand came up, resting on her head, her fingers tangling in Lexa's hair, stroking the back of her head, and Lexa looked up, not sure if Clarke was trying to get her attention or if it was only a gesture of... affection, she supposed. Clarke looked back at her, eyes blue as the sky, a different shade than Lexa's own which could look green sometimes, or almost gray, depending on her mood and the light and everything else, but Clarke's were never anything but blue.

She smiled, just a little, and Lexa smiled back, taking it as permission to continue, and as her lips found Clarke's hips her fingers hooked the waistbands of her pants and drew them down, pushing them down Clarke's thighs so that they were equally bare, equally exposed, and her stomach was all butterflies, and she didn't think it had ever been like this with Costia (she _had_ to stop thinking about Costia...) because the stakes had never been so high with her. They had come together in love, not in war. They had never been on opposite sides of anything that she could recall, or at least not anything of any consequence. Their bed had never been a battlefield.

"Lexa." Clarke's voice, soft and uncertain, concerned maybe, drew her back into the moment, and she trailed kisses up Clarke's thighs and felt her react, felt the tension in her as Lexa reached her hip, and her tongue left a damp trail down the crux of it, but then Clarke's hand found hers, squeezed tight. "Lexa," she said again. 

She blinked, frowning, and looked up. 

"Come here," Clarke said, holding out her other hand to draw her up, and she didn't understand why Clarke had stopped her, but she did as she was told, because that was how it had to work, it if was going to work at all. She slid back up Clarke's body, shedding her robe completely in the process, and then it was all of Clarke's skin against all of her own, and when their lips met this time the earth tipped on its axis, or at least it felt like it did, and their limbs locked together and neither of them tried to pull away, and even though she'd meant to ask why Clarke had stopped her, suddenly it didn't seem to important.

She wasn't aware that she was challenging Clarke for the upper hand until she lost it. She found herself pressed down on her back again, and Clarke's fingers laced through hers, but it was her eyes more than her weight that pinned Lexa in place. "I won't ask for promises," she said. "I know where you stand. But Lexa, if you betray me again..."

"It was never—"

"Your intention. I know. If I thought it was, I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't do this... want this. If I thought for a second that it didn't hurt you as much as it hurt me when you walked away..." Clarke stopped. "I want to trust you. I want to believe you, believe _in_ you, believe in _this_ , but my head is screaming no and my heart is pounding yes, and..."

"What does your gut say?" Lexa asked. "If you had no time to consider, if you had to choose right now, what would you do?"

Clarke looked at her, stared down at her for a second, then another, and it was too long, the decision had to be made without hesitation, but maybe Clarke couldn't do that. Not when it wasn't actually absolutely necessary to make the decision without thought. 

Lexa let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding slowly, counting one, two, three and halfway through four when Clarke's lips met hers again, sucking the air from her lungs as she made a decision, made a choice, and Lexa could feel it in her, that she'd surrendered to the idea and would not change her mind now, at least not tonight, and so Lexa surrendered her body to this girl, this impossible, beautiful, frustrating, fascinating girl who she loved, who maybe could love her, who was maybe the _only_ one who could love her exactly as she was, and who could love who she might become (she hoped) and who could see and touch and taste her scars, the ones she could see and the ones she couldn't, and want her even so.

She tried to stop thinking then, tried to just let herself feel, let herself be carried away by the touch of Clarke's lips on her throat, the grip and press and glide of her fingers down her arms, her back, her sides, her hips... and she pressed up into that touch without thinking, and felt Clarke's fingers tighten, the tips digging into her skin, and then her hand was on Lexa's belly, and her breath caught and held and came out in a shuddering sigh as it slid lower, and lower still until it was between her legs and Lexa ached with desire, spreading her legs to let Clarke's hand move, and fingers slid over hot slick flesh slowly, finding their way as if they had a mind of their own, but when Clarke found Lexa's clit and her hips bucked, Lexa knew that she knew what she was doing because she kissed her hard, swallowing the sound that she made so that it wouldn't draw the attention of anyone who might be listening at the door and get the wrong idea.

"Clarke," she panted, when the kiss broke. "Clarke." Because it was the only word she knew, the only word that mattered in that moment, and Clarke nuzzled her throat and did not try to stifle the sounds that Lexa made as Clarke discovered places inside of her that she had only dreamed of her finding, and drew out feelings – physical and otherwise – that she thought she'd forgotten, that she'd tried to forget, and it for a moment she fought against it, like giving in to the pleasure was going to cost her something, and maybe it would but, but, but...

But it didn't really matter what her head thought, or her heart wanted, or even what her gut said because her body took over, and she buried her face in Clarke's shoulder to muffle the sound that was torn from her, part-scream, part-moan, and she clung, shaking, as she tried to catch her breath. 

She felt Clarke's arms around her, felt her breath against her temple, and when she opened her eyes she saw that the Sky Girl was smiling, a real smile that reached her eyes, and she rubbed the tip of her nose against Lexa's and kissed her between the eyes. 

" _Ai hod—_ " Lexa started, then stopped herself, and if Clarke heard she didn't ask for Lexa to complete the thought. It had come out as a sigh, and maybe that's all she thought it was. 

She didn't give her too long to think about it, though. She didn't want Clarke to think that now that she'd gotten off, that was going to be the end of it. If she had any say in it, it would be far from the end. She rolled to face Clarke more fully, and kissed her, slow and soft and deep, her teeth sinking gently into Clarke's lower lip as her hand slid down her side to her hip, and over her stomach, her fingertips just brushing the damp curls between Clarke's legs and staying there, teasing, until Clarke growled and pushed her hips hard into the touch, demanding rather than asking, and then Lexa rolled her onto her back, smiling down at her as she sank her fingers between her legs, and she was hot and slick and exactly and nothing like Lexa had imagined it would be (not that she _had_ imagined it... except maybe sometimes when she woke from heated dreams that weren't actually about Clarke except that they were because so much of everything had been about Clarke since the moment she'd shown up in Lexa's tent). 

Her thumb found Clarke's clit even as two fingers slid into her, and she moved her hand slowly, watching Clarke's face and feeling the way her body responded, trying to give her what she wanted, what she needed, wanting all of the tension that she carried inside of her to ease, for a little while at least. But before that could happen, she had to let it build, and she felt Clarke's teeth on her collarbone, and the suction of a kiss that was more than a kiss, it would leave a mark and Lexa could pretend that she minded but she didn't, because why not wear on her skin what was already seared into her soul, as surely as the spirit of _heda_ was?

She felt it when Clarke came, felt it through her own body as much as she did in Clarke's, felt her tighten and release, and felt her go soft in Lexa's arms. She held her close, pressed a kiss to her temple, her cheek, and finally her lips, and Clarke blinked at her as she drew the covers up over them before the chill could settle on their sweat-damp skin.

"Say it," she whispered, her voice ragged around the edges. "Please."

So she'd heard after all, and maybe knew or maybe only guessed. " _Ai hod yu in, Clarke kom Skaikru._ "

"I love you too," Clarke murmured. "I may live to regret it. It may damn us both, but I love you too."


End file.
